


Hormones and Nesting

by truth_renowned



Series: Hormones and _____ [5]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Peggy on bed rest, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: Peggy is on bed rest and on a cleaning frenzy, much to Daniel’s confusion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to lillianmmalter for the idea!

Daniel steps out of the shower and sets about drying off and getting dressed. Normally a shower wakes him up but not today, not any day in the past few weeks. He has a very pregnant wife on bed rest and a burgeoning agency to run as acting director -- since said wife is the director and has been banned by her husband from entering SHIELD headquarters until after the baby is born. He is, as the saying goes, burning the candle at both ends. More like having a 10-ended candle with very little wick and wax left.

He fastens his prosthetic and slips on his trousers, then realizes he doesn’t have his belt. He walks out of the bathroom and stops short. Their bed is covered with his clothes and hers, and her shoes and his ties are flung about on the floor. One of his dress shirts comes flying out of the closet and he leans back, the fabric missing his face by inches.

“Peggy, what are you doing?”

She peeks her head out from behind the closet door. “Reorganizing.”

“Our closet wasn’t organized before?”

“Not well enough,” she says, her head disappearing behind the door again.

“Apparently. Didn’t you just do that a few weeks ago?”

“Yes, but it’s a mess again.” She comes out from hiding and sidesteps shoes on the floor.

“Be careful,” he says, reaching out to help her around the obstacles.

“I’m fine. And if you would keep the closet neat, I wouldn’t have to repeatedly organize it.”

He bites back a sigh. She’s been doing this for a few weeks now, cleaning and cleaning again, reorganizing every inch of their house. He doesn’t know what is where anymore. Peggy never has been the domestic type, but every time he comes home lately, he finds her digging in a closet, drawer or dresser. 

“I’ll try to be better,” he says. “Um, any idea where my belt is?”

She points to the bed as she moves back to the closet. “Under there somewhere.”

This time, the sigh comes out as he starts moving clothes aside. 

\-------

Daniel sits at his desk, arriving far later than anticipated. He still didn’t find his favorite belt, having to settle for an old one that’s hanging on by a few threads. Hopefully he’ll make it through the day without losing his pants.

He’s actually relieved to be at work. No, that’s not fair. He wants to be home with Peggy, knowing bed rest is an oxymoron for someone like his wife. No wonder she’s puttering around cleaning. If he had to stay at home, he’d need to find things to do as well. He just wouldn’t do the same things over and over again. While it was amusing at first, her behavior is starting to concern him but he’s not sure what to do about it. Maybe they need to go back to the doctor...

A knock at the door startles him. “Come in.”

Agent Rose Roberts, second-in-command of internal operations and policies, enters his office carrying an armful of file folders.

“For your signature, Assistant Director.”

“Just add them to the pile,” he says, not looking up but pointing to the precariously stacked file folders already on his desk.

She adds to the stack without toppling it, which is impressive. She then just stands there, waiting for… what? He looks up from his desk. “Do you need something else, Ro… uh, Agent Roberts?”

She walks to the door, and he thinks she’s leaving but she closes the door and turns back to him.

“It’s just Rose and Daniel now,” she says. “You look awful.”

He gives her a weak smile. “Working two jobs will do that to you.”

“So will having a pregnant wife in a doctor-imposed exile. How is Peg doing?”

“She fine,” he says noncommittally. 

Rose tilts her head to the side. “That didn’t sound convincing. So she’s adjusting to bed rest?”

He shrugs. “Pretty much.”

“You’re lying,” Rose says, a hand on her hip. “When you lie, you get this little crinkle in the corner of your mouth. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Physically she’s fine.” His gaze goes back to his desk but out of the corner of his eye, he sees her staring at him, arms crossed over her chest.

“But…?”

The dam finally breaks. He leans his elbows on his desk and covers his head with his hands. “She’s driving me nuts, Rose. Every time I come home, she’s rearranged something in the house. I was late this morning because she decided to redo the closet. Two days ago, she redid the pantry. She threw out my Folgers because it smelled old. How does coffee smell old? Last week she took all of the silverware out of the drawers and washed them. At midnight.” He sighs. “I’m really worried about her. I think she might be going crazy.”

Rose lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh, Daniel, she’s not crazy. She’s nesting.”

He looks up, brow furrowed. “She's what?”

“Nesting. It happens to a lot of women. She wants to make sure everything is ready for the baby, so she has the urge to clean.”

“Why does a baby need clean silverware and an organized pantry?”

“He doesn’t,” she says with a chuckle.

“He?”

She shrugs. “Just a hunch. Anyway, nesting is just an instinct, and it usually means she’s close to delivering.”

“The doctor says she has about six weeks left.”

Rose shakes her head, that special headshake she saves for when he has no idea what is going on, which seems to be quite often these days.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Daniel, the baby is in charge. Not you, not Peg, not the doctor. Six weeks could turn into six days if the little one wants out.”

He swallows. “She could have the baby in a week? We’re not ready.”

“Don’t worry. You two are fine.” Rose puts a hand on his shoulder. “Like I said, the baby is making the decisions. Get used to it.”

“With this nesting stuff,” he says with a sigh, “what do I do?”

“Support her and stay out of her way. If she wants to rearrange your closet again, let her.”

“I don’t want her hurting herself.”

“She won’t. She’s smart and knows her limits physically with the pregnancy.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just…” 

“A soon-to-be-father. It’s okay to be scared.”

“Terrified is more like it.”

She smiles. “You're going to be a wonderful father, Daniel.”

He matches her smile until she turns on her heel and leaves. He's glad she has confidence in his parenting skills because he's not so sure. Hell, just being a good husband is proving damn near impossible these days.

\-------

He finds her in the nursery, baby clothes piled high on the new dresser. The top two drawers are open, and she is placing a folded piece inside the top drawer.

She glances at him, a sad smile on her face. “I know, I folded all of these clothes a few days ago. I’m refolding them. Don’t ask me why because I have no answer for you.” She sighs. “You probably think I've gone mad with all of this cleaning. _I_ think I've gone mad.”

“You're not crazy, Peg. You're nesting.”

Her eyebrow shoots up. “Excuse me?”

“Rose says you're trying to get ready for the baby, so you want everything to be perfect.”

Both eyebrows arch painfully high. “You told Rose about this?”

“She asked how you were doing,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I told her you were keeping busy with cleaning. She says it’s nesting and it’s normal.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is. I hate cleaning and now I can’t stop.” She grabs a tiny onesie and folds it in half, then places it in the drawer. “Nesting, huh? Makes me sound like a bloody loony bird, which sounds about right.”

“You’re not loony.” He approaches her and slips an arm around her waist. “I just don't want you to overdo it. You’re still on bed rest, remember? What can I do to help?”

“Well,” she says, putting a finger to her lips, which are curled in a rueful smile, “you could paint the nursery.”

He stares at her, unsure whether to say what’s on his mind, but he decides to chance it. “You mean this nursery, the one I painted last weekend?”

“That's the only one we have, so yes.”

“Ohhh… kay.”

She sighs. “I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?”

“No, no. You can't help it.”

She shoots him a glare and he sputters, “What I mean is, you're not being ridiculous.”

“Yes, I am, but now I don't like the color. Off-white is… boring. I’m yawning just looking at it. I was thinking a pale blue.”

“But blue is for boys. What if it's a girl?”

“Then she'll learn to like blue,” she responds matter-of-factly.

He nods slowly, then looks at the wall. “What about yellow? It's still neutral for boys and girls, but it's more interesting than white.”

She tilts her head, pondering the idea, but doesn't say anything.

“How about if I paint it yellow this weekend,” he offers, “and if you don't like it, I'll paint it again next weekend.”

She turns to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her swollen belly makes it harder for them to embrace, but they manage. His hands settle on her waist, and he kisses her lightly on the lips. She has other ideas, deepening the kiss and brushing her fingers through his hair.

“What was that for?” he asks, a bit breathless.

“Have I mentioned what a wonderful husband you are?” 

“Not lately,” he says with a chuckle.

“You _are_ wonderful for putting up with my nesting and other asinine things this baby is doing to me.”

“This baby is making you more beautiful every day,” he says softly, sealing his words with a kiss to her forehead.

She huffs out a laugh. “Oh, now you’re being as ridiculous as I am.”

“No I’m not.” His hands move to her stomach, smoothing over the bump. “Our child is in here, Peg. That, to me, makes you even more beautiful. I thought you saying yes to me proposing marriage was the best moment of my life. That doesn’t even come close to this.”

Her hands cover his. “There is no one I could or would go through this with other than you.”

He meets her gaze and smiles, amazed that this beautiful, tough, intelligent woman is not only his wife, but also the mother of his child.

“Let's finish up in here,” he says, pulling away from her, “and then we’ll go look at paint colors.”

She nods, handing him a pale yellow onesie with a cartoon giraffe on the front. Looking at the wall, she says, “Yellow might work.”

They fold the remainder of the baby clothes, their shoulders touching as they stand side by side, just as they have for years.


End file.
